Not Good Enough
by wackywhateleys
Summary: The stress of searching for Randall gets to be too much for Henry. (Oneshot.)


_(This one is EEEE-MOOOO…)_

_(Could be interpreted as Randall/Henry or Henry/Angela depending on what you ship.)_

Henry polished the top of the desk until it was shining, wiped off every pen before lining them up in the drawers, sorting every file and paper and note they had made while searching the ruins even though it had all been in perfect order before. The latest search had been a failure. Again. Just like every single one had been, for nearly five years now. The anniversary of that awful day was coming up again, and Master Randall still wasn't back yet, they still hadn't managed to find him—

_He_ still hadn't managed to find him.

Though Henry had come up into this room in the Reunion Inn to calm down, and plan the next expedition alone, now that he was here there was nothing but reminders of failure. So much 'evidence' that had turned out to be nothing. So many books on the Azran that had been utterly useless. The wall that he had copied exactly from Randall's own room, looking so out of place here…and that robot…

Henry's chest tightened as he realized that even in this cluttered room, there was nothing left to clean. He didn't have anything else to do to protect him from the blaming voices in his head now.

_After everything he's done for you,_ they said accusingly, _after everything he's done for years and years, he only needs one thing now, and you can't even manage that. He needs you, and_ you're_ too useless to help him. _

The oppressive cleanliness of the room was taunting him. Pointless work like this? Done perfectly. The important thing? Nothing. He hadn't even found a shoe or a scrap of clothing, anything that might point to Master Randall.

And every day without Master Randall, the chances of him coming back got lower and lower. That was what the missing persons detective had said.

The room was spinning. Henry found that he couldn't breathe. He knew it was just a nervous episode, like the ones he'd had before, but this was so much worse—he thought he was dying—

He fell heavily back into a bookcase, and it wobbled, knocking a couple of books to the floor. Suddenly angered by this half-hearted destruction, he threw his back into it again, and it toppled, bringing the other bookcases down with it one by one as they knocked each other over. Books thumped to the ground, hundreds at once, scattering and falling open, and then, in the next instant, everything was silent again.

He sat dazedly down in the chaos he'd created. _Chaos._ He tried to keep back tears, but then realized there was no one to see them, no need to bother…

Angela knocked on the door. "Henry? Are you in there? The expedition came back but you didn't come home, so I thought…" She stopped when she heard him, sniffling and trying to recover.

Angela opened the door, and he averted his face, but not quickly enough. "What's wrong?" She closed the door behind her and came quickly to his side. "You didn't find—"

"Nothing," he sobbed. "There was nothing, Angela. He's been gone so long now, and—"

He couldn't keep talking, but just sobbed and sobbed. He had never cried in front of Angela before, and never so much at one time. It was like floodgates had opened inside of him.

Angela glanced at the overturned bookcases, the cleaning supplies on the floor. She knelt down and put her arms around him.

"If you found nothing, he might still be out there," she said. "No news is good news, right?"

He couldn't even respond. She pressed on.

"You can't give up hope now, Henry. Not after you gave it back to me. This is Randall we're talking about, remember? Randall loves us, all of us. Nothing would keep him from coming back to us. And Henry…Henry…"

Henry shuddered, trying to breathe regularly, to make the tears stop.

"Out of all of us, Henry, Randall would be proud of you most of all. If he could see what you're doing for him, how you sacrifice so much every day…I know he would be so happy…" She held him tighter, and after a moment, he put his arms around her too. His eyes had run dry, but he was still sobbing.

"I just miss him so much…"

"We all do," she whispered.

He lay his head on her shoulder and she rocked him, gently, until the crying finally stopped and he was left only with the emptiness that would never be filled.


End file.
